A Valentine For Christmas - A Regency Novella (5 page)

There was, she had decided, something a little peculiar about Lord Valentine and Miss du Pont but she could not work out what it was. Cousins they might be, but she had intercepted more than one flirtatious glance from Madeleine directed at his lordship’s forbidding countenance. Were they in a relationship? There was certainly nothing wrong with a man forming a romantic liaison with his cousin, it was done quite frequently. But the usual rules of behavior must apply and Miss du Pont was not accompanied by a suitable companion. Naturally, most women in her circumstances had the companionship of at least a maid. But circumstances had been unforeseen, landing Miss du Pont in the middle of an adventure.

Lord Valentine certainly had not been in any way flirtatious. Quite the opposite, he had looked rather grim on the occasions he glanced towards his cousin. It had all been quite perplexing.

Leaning down to throw another log on the Charlie grinned to herself, remembering what had taken place after dinner. Even if his lordship was an early riser, she rather suspected that he would try and stay abed as long as possible after the previous evening. Lord Valentine’s expression while they had played their family favorite of charades after dinner had been a study. It hadn’t been distain on that handsome face – he was far too well bred to display any such emotion – the look of polite attentiveness did not quite cover the gleam of desperation in his eyes. But at least he had not been bored. Charlie was almost certain that the Weatherings
en famille
left no room for such an emotion although Madeleine du Pont might be the exception to the rule. Try as she might to see the positives in the girl, it seemed to Charlie that Madeleine was not bothered by little things like common civility… Truthfully, try as she might, she could not warm to Miss du Pont and so was inclined to be churlish.

She glanced at the clock on the mantle. It was nearly seven-thirty which meant that breakfast would soon arrive in the dining room. Neither her parents nor her siblings were early risers, which meant that Charlie often had the house more or less to herself until at least eight, often later. Today she thought that her father might make a special effort and come downstairs because they had a guest, but she doubted he would be down before eight-thirty. Much depended on his putting his book down before the early hours, for like the rest of the family, he enjoyed reading immensely.

Theirs was a household of small amusements done on a limited budget. Papa had an income of three thousand a year, which, without seven children to support, would have been splendid. But seeing to an adequate future for so many children meant that pennies must be counted. The girl’s were dependant on Mama’s sister to present them at court if Aunt Sophia could be relied on. And she would, of course. She had been in Europe for much of the last Season or she would have invited Charlie to London. But there were plans afoot to have her go up in February to start the endless round of visits to dressmakers, in preparation for when the Season truly began. Aunt Sophia had even offered to help with the mind numbingly large amount of gowns that were required. Charlie was in two minds about the whole thing; she wanted to make an eligible match, she truly did. It would help launch Anne and Merry later on and perhaps alleviate some of the burden regarding the boys. But at the same time, immersing herself in a world that was entirely unfamiliar was daunting. She
liked
her family and knew she would miss them if she were gone for any length of time. And she had decided that, if she must go, then she would probably have all manner of adventures. If she
must
go. She was inclined to think that adventures could be found in the countryside, if one just knew where to look for them. It was extraordinary how much easier things were in a book. She occasionally reflected that growing up was far more complicated than it should be. Why couldn’t life stay simple?

She was about to go in search of breakfast when she saw a tall figure stride past the door. Vivaldi sat up with interest but he was too well trained to investigate without an invitation. Charlie felt inclined to investigate, however, for she recognized the rapidly moving man as her father’s guest. Apparently Lord Valentine
was
an early riser.

Moving quietly, she stepped into the hallway in time to see his lordship fling open the front door. A gust of wind greeted him, hurling itself at him with malicious delight. It brought with it a small whirlwind of snow that immediately dusted his lordship from top to toe.

‘Damn!’ he snarled and closed the door once more, not without some effort as the wind was a little more fierce than it had been when Charlie had ventured out and it seemed to enjoy finding a path into the house. Turning, a pair of frowning dark eyes met her own and he stopped short.

‘Good morning,’ she greeted him cheerfully.

He hesitated before giving a reluctant nod, as if admitting that it was, indeed morning although probably not nearly as good as he had been hoping for. ‘Good morning. I am sorry… I did not see you there.’

She realized that he was referring to the cursing and suppressed a smile. Both James and Harry cursed far more than either of them should, usually when they were out of earshot of their younger siblings and their parents while Bardwell delighted in dropping the most dire clankers, just to get a reaction. But she inclined her head anyway, accepting his tacit apology.

‘I am afraid the weather has grown worse, not better.’

‘The weather is -’ he paused, collecting himself. He looked a little harried this morning, as if he had not slept well. ‘The weather is impossible. It seems that we will have to trespass upon your hospitality for a little time longer, Miss Weathering.’

Charlie nodded gravely although she was by no means displeased that this was the case. Just as he was eager to leave, she was eager for him to stay. Christmas was a lovely time of year for the Weatherings, with food and games aplenty. It would be rather amusing to see how Lord Valentine and his disdainful cousin managed to navigate the madness. And it would give her the opportunity to discover more about her mysterious stranger. Charlie knew it was wrong to take pleasure from others misfortune but his lordship was so dark and brooding, so very like one of the heroes out of a Mrs. Radcliff novel that she was in no hurry to see him go. Such exotic specimens had not come her way before. They were to be sampled in full measure.

‘Are you hungry? I believe that breakfast has been served in the dining room.’

‘Excellent.’ It seemed to Charlie that he was making an effort to shake his bad mood off. As she had expected, the dining room was empty of all but food; the usual hot fare of kidneys, sausages, mushrooms, bacon and eggs had been laid on the buffet in warming dishes and there was coffee. She headed for the pot immediately. Her mother had spent several years in France and had developed a taste for coffee, which she had happily passed on to her family. That, along with hot chocolate, was much appreciated by all of the Weatherings.

‘Well it is so very
quiet
, you see. Not that I do not enjoy the opportunity to read, but I think one gets used to a certain level of noise, don’t you?’ She selected a variety of things from the warming dishes; kidneys, a sausage, eggs and mushrooms. To this she added two slices of toast. Breakfast was the one meal that she was always ravenous for. Vivaldi had smelt the food and it had inspired him to leave the hearth and investigate the delicious smells. He knew his mistress well enough to know that she would probably slip him a kidney, if he were just patient enough.

Lord Valentine helped himself as well and she was pleased to note that he had a healthy appetite. It seemed she would not be the only morning person in residence, at least for a short time. He turned to find himself staring at the square, box like figure of Vivaldi who met his startled look with a small, polite wag of the tail.

‘Your dog?’

‘Vivaldi. He
was
called Gordon but Anne renamed him in honor of Vincentio di Vivaldi.’ She took a seat at the table and his lordship joined her.

‘Vincentio…?’

‘From Mrs. Radcliff’s
The Italian
. I do not like it as much as
The Mysteries of Udolpho
or even
The Romance of the Forest
but for some reason Vivaldi seemed so much more apt than Gordon.’

Lord Valentine stared at her for a long moment, then took a mouthful of coffee. ‘I am afraid I’m not familiar with any of those… those… what are they, exactly?’

‘Books,’ Charlie gave a gurgle of laughter. ‘I am sorry, but it always seems impossible that somebody could not have read what one is so familiar with. I think people assume that, just because you’ve read such things a dozen times, everybody must have done.’

‘I suppose so.’ He sounded bemused.

‘Of course, Mama does not actually encourage us to read such stuff but I know that she has done so herself, in secret. She says it is not fit for a young lady and fills our heads full of nonsense but I always think that if it wasn’t the nonsense in novels it would be something else equally nonsensical. Don’t you agree?’

‘It is my experience that without the appropriate mental engagement, people are inclined to get up to all manner of mischief,’ his lordship agreed dryly.

‘Exactly,’ Charlie said, pleased that he understood her. She had a habit of going off on conversational tangents that even her family struggled to follow. ‘If you have not encountered Mrs. Radcliffe then I can assure you, you are in for a treat.’

‘I will be sure to acquaint myself with her work at the first opportunity.’

There was something in his voice that made her do a quick revision of the entire conversation. Unless she was much mistaken, the man was humoring her. He probably thought she was quite silly, prattling on about romantic novels. It was a mistake others had made in the past. ‘May I ask how old you are, sir?’

His lordship stared at her frowningly and she stared back, jaws working. ‘Did I hear correctly last night that you intend to shortly go up to London for your first Season, Miss Weathering?’

Charlie swallowed and nodded. ‘My aunt is going to sponsor me at court and at Almacks. At least, we believe she will.’

‘I see. May I make a suggestion?’

Charlie stared at him with sudden trepidation. In her experience, when one phrased those words in just that way, the suggestion about to be made was less than palatable. ‘I suppose. Although I suspect I will not care for it over much.’

‘I daresay you will not,’ her companion agreed, a little grimly. ‘I would like to suggest that you learn to curb your all too ready tongue. It might be considered charming in the wilds of Cambridgeshire for a chit just out of the schoolroom to make inappropriate comments to strangers, but in London it would be considered unacceptable.’

Well, that was a set-down! Charlie sighed, acknowledging that he probably had a point. She
had
been too forward, a trait that she occasionally tried to curb with little success. Her Aunt Sophia said she should consider before she spoke but none of the Weatherings numbered caution among their virtues. Besides (and this was rather the point), he
had
sounded pompous, just like her puffed up Uncle Jasper. It seemed a pity in one so young and, whilst he might not appreciate it, at the very least he should know about it.

‘I apologize. I did not mean to offend you.’

‘You did not. I am merely telling you for your own good. You will do far better if you keep your opinions to yourself and try to be agreeable.’

Charlie did not respond to this. She wanted to, for she was not of the same opinion at all but prudence seemed necessary. He was probably annoyed that he would not be able to travel that day. He was stuck in a house with a family he did not know and it would not surprise her at all if Miss du Pont made a deal of fuss about it. Clearly Lord Valentine had much to contend with and contending with Charlie, so early in the day, was too much for him.

For almost a minute, silence ruled the breakfast table, each of them setting about their plates. Dorrie came in, checked the dishes, smiled vaguely at them both and left. His lordship spoke again when the girl left the room and for some reason he sounded more irritable than before. ‘Really, I am not offended, I can assure you. You are perfectly within your rights to think me stuffy.’

‘But not to voice my opinion. I understand completely.’

His mouth tightened. ‘I did not say that.’

‘Actually, I think you did. But it is perfectly all right,’ she assured him. ‘You are in an unfortunate situation being stranded here for Christmas. I daresay you are not used to large families. A lot of people can find us overwhelming.’

His lips twitched. ‘You amaze me!’

‘I know. I find it extraordinary myself.’

This transformed the lip twitch into a genuine laugh and she smiled herself. Any hit of pomposity disappeared when he laughed and suddenly he looked younger than his six and twenty years. Laughter suited Lord Valentine, there was no doubt about it. Why then had two grooves been cut in so deeply between his brows? He was a fine looking man, there was no doubt about it, but a certain air hung about him. Was it sadness or merely solemnity? She wondered what had happened in his life that had made him so weary.